


Redemption

by raths_kitten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Cowboy Dean Winchester, M/M, Preacher Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raths_kitten/pseuds/raths_kitten
Summary: Castiel’s quiet life gets turned upside down when a wounded stranger seeks shelter in his church. Dean’s appearance threatens to unravel all that Castiel has built for himself, because, as it turns out, he has some secrets of his own.





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Dean/Cas Reverse Bang](https://deancasreversebang.tumblr.com/) and based on [sketchydean](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/)'s really beautiful prompt. Check out the art masterpost [HERE](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/post/175308054961/for-the-deancasreversebang-i-teamed-up-with-the).

_The first time they met had almost been the last time._

Castiel opened the doors to his church like every morning, enjoying the way the early sunlight lit up the pews. Even his small altar was alight at this hour, giving it an almost angelic glow. Nobody was bound to come pray at this hour of the day, or hell, even at this day of the week, but it made him feel peaceful and that was the most important part.

He smiled serenely and took a deep breath, before turning around and going back to his cabin. But a sudden noise startled him. Something crashed and groaned and… no, not something. Someone. Castiel reached for his colt out of instinct and then realized he wasn’t wearing one. It didn’t go with the robes. Which might be a costly mistake..

But no. There was a reason he wasn’t armed. And whoever was in here surely didn’t mean to cause him harm. Still. It didn’t hurt to be cautious, so Castiel grabbed the nearest candlestick and walked in the direction of the noise. 

“Hello?” He called out. “Please don’t be frightened.” Frightened men shot first. As did madmen and criminals. And he really ought to go back and grab his shotgun. “Everyone is welcome in my church.”

There was another groan and as Castiel rounded the pew, he came face to face with a gun trained on him. The man holding it was shaking badly though. He was bleeding from a shoulder wound and looked feverish. “Go. Away,” the man rasped out.

Castiel held up his hands in surrender but slowly moved closer. It would be easy to disarm him. He probably wouldn’t even be able to pull the trigger if the way he held his arm was any indication. “Easy. Let me help.”

“H…help?” The man frowned. “Why would… why would you h…” A particularly bad shudder wrecked through his body and Castiel seized the moment, lunging forward and knocking the gun out of the man’s hand.

Wide green eyes locked onto his and then they closed in defeat. Castiel saw the fight drain out of the man as he probably thought Castiel was going to end him. And maybe he should. This man was trouble. Castiel could feel it on the tip of his tongue. But he’d chosen the cloth for a reason. And right now, this man needed his help.

If the man would turn into a danger for his congregation later on, well, Castiel would deal with it then.

Kicking the gun further away – he’d have to come back for it – he bent down and wrapped his arms around the man, helping him up. “Alright. Up you go.”

Green eyes fluttered open again and the man gave him a wry smirk. “Wanna kill me… outside, huh?” He coughed but helped Castiel along to the best of his abilities. “Not get blood all over your nice church.”

“Even more blood, you mean?” Castiel rolled his eyes, straining to carry the man over to his house. He understood though. He’d been where the stranger was. Distrustful of everybody. It was no way to live.

“Sorry, padre.” The man stumbled along, but his strength was leaving him rapidly. Soon he’d be out and Castiel would have to drag him alone the rest of the way. Castiel hurried them as fast as possible. Crashing into the dirt would not help his wound.

“You can help me clean it up once you’re back on your feet,” Castiel replied, smiling a little at the shocked look on the man’s face when he realized Castiel was not leaving him out here to die. 

He’d just managed to get into the house before the stranger sagged, unconscious. With a sigh, Castiel carried him the rest of the way to his bed. He had to rip apart the stranger’s shirt to get it off, since the blood had already dried and caked to his skin. Castiel frowned and went to get some alcohol and his medical equipment. 

The wound looked angry. He managed to get the bullet out and cleaned it as best as he could, but he was afraid the infection had already set in. His suspicion was only heightened by the fact that the stranger never really woke up, he just groaned and mumbled occasionally. But there was nothing more he could do right now.

Leaving the stranger in his bed, Castiel cleaned the blood off of himself and went back to his chapel to clean the floor before anyone could stumble in. Before he knew the full story of how the stranger got injured, it was best if nobody knew he was here.

He was just about to head back in to change his filthy robes and check on his patient when Kevin arrived to deliver him the weekly bulletin. Castiel was thankful that the local boy ran a few errands for him so he wouldn’t have to ride into town all too often. Too many trigger-happy people.

“Thank you, Kevin,” Castiel accepted the paper gratefully. “Could you do me another favour? Would you mind fetching Meg for me?”

“Meg?” Kevin frowned. “What would you…” He blushed and broke off. “Nevermind. Will do, father.”

Castiel cringed. “It’s Castiel, Kevin.”

Kevin tapped his hat in acknowledgement and re-mounted his horse.

An hour later, Castiel was perched over the stranger, trying to cool him down with wet rags, while the stranger was still mumbling nonsense but not alert enough to communicate. Suddenly his door barged open with a loud bang and Castiel flinched.

“The fuck, Clarence? You do know that Kevin will tell the whole town we fuck now, right?” Meg was shouting through the house before she’d even spotted him. When she came through his bedroom door, she stopped cold. “Jesus.”

“I need your help,” Castiel informed her simply. He didn’t really care what the town thought of him.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Meg’s demeanour changed instantly and she crouched down next to the bed, checking the stranger over. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know. Found him in my church.” Castiel shrugged sheepishly.

Meg glared at him. “Jesus, Cas.” She shook her head and inspected the stranger’s gunshot wound. “Did you check for a star?” She asked hopefully. Castiel’s look told her everything. “Yeah, didn’t think so either. Too young and pretty for a sheriff.”

Castiel looked at the stranger’s face. He hadn’t allowed himself to admire him fully, since he was his patient now and potentially dangerous, but she was right. The stranger was handsome, his features soft in his delirium. He looked harmless. But looks could be deceiving.

“Can you help me, Meg?” He asked his friend.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Like I’m gonna let someone this beautiful just die,” she joked, but Castiel knew she’d help anyone, if she was able to, regardless of their looks. She was a good person.

Meg was a girl at the local whorehouse. Most people didn’t know, but she’d grown up among the Indians, who’d found her left abandoned on a trail. She’d been “rescued” when she was sixteen. Though it wasn’t so much of a rescue as her whole tribe had been slaughtered and she’d been dragged out as sort of a trophy. But she’d recovered remarkably. Much as Castiel hated the thought of her whoring herself out, she could handle herself. And at this point in her life, it was her choice.

She came with a vast knowledge of herbal remedies and medicine, which made her even more useful to the brothel. Of course nobody could know she practised that kind of medicine, but in this town, nobody asked a lot of questions. It was one of the reasons why Castiel had settled in here in the first place.

“Let me see what you still got,” Meg demanded and Castiel showed her to his stash of herbs and berries. Meg nodded. “I’m just gonna need some clay. I’ll be right back. Good thing you live so far out.” She winked at him.

It didn’t take long for her to return and she mixed a salve to apply to Dean’s wound. She really pushed it in and it finally woke the stranger up with a loud yell of pain. “What? Who?” He looked around in a panic.

“Relax, handsome,” Meg soothed him. “Let me help.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, but settled back on the bed. He stiffened again when his eyes landed on Castiel. “You,” he said accusingly.

“Hello,” Castiel rasped awkwardly, trying to look harmless to soothe his patient. Then again, that guy had broken into _his_ church. Castiel had done nothing wrong here.

“I’m Meg, this is Castiel. You can thank us properly for saving your life later.” Meg broke through the tension and applied the rest of the salve while looking at the stranger expectantly. 

He held her gaze for a while until he caved. “Dean. My name’s Dean.” He started shivering again. “And thank you, for trying.” His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was slipping away again. “Tell… tell Sam… tell Sam that…” A heavy shudder wrecked his whole body and then he was still again, unconscious.

“He thinks he’s going to die,” Meg concluded.

“He wouldn’t have told us his name otherwise,” Castiel replied. He’d been there.

“You think it’s his real name, _Clarence_?” She stressed her nickname for him.

Castiel grunted and raised his eyebrow. He should reach out some feelers about this. But then again, if he started poking around, he’d draw attention to himself in the process. “Thanks for your help.”

“U-huh,” Meg raised her eyebrow. “You know my hourly rate.” Castiel’s face dimmed and Meg smirked at him. “But because you’re my favourite customer, you can pay me with a hot meal.”

Castiel startled to realize how late it was and that he hadn’t eaten anything yet either. “I’ll make a broth. Maybe Dean will be up to eat some later.”

Meg smiled and clapped him on the back. “You think Sam is his wife?” she teased him before they left for the kitchen.

A couple hours later, Dean was looking much better. The salve Meg had mixed was working wonders to drive out the infection and Castiel was applying a fresh layer when Dean stirred again with a groan. His gaze was mostly focused. It was a good sign.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel greeted him. “Would you like some broth?”

Dean rolled into a more upright position and grabbed his head, wincing when the movement put a strain on his shoulder. “Can’t. Too queasy.”

“It’ll help,” Castiel insisted, leaving to get him some.

After Dean had reluctantly swallowed a few spoonfuls, his appetite seemed to return and he ate the broth willingly. All the while eyeing Castiel suspiciously. “Why are you helping me?”

Castiel raised his eyebrow. “I’m a priest. You think I’d have let you bleed out in my chapel?”

“Wouldn’t be the first man of the cloth to refuse aid,” Dean replied.

Castiel said nothing in reply because he knew kindness didn’t necessarily come with the cloth, even if it should. He placed his hand on Dean’s forehead instead. “The fever seems to have broken,” he observed. 

“I feel better,” Dean admitted.

Castiel nodded, feeling a little proud. The broth was done, but he didn’t want to leave his charge just yet. “Who’s Sam?” He asked, thinking it would be a better topic than to ask who shot him in the first place.

But apparently he miscalculated. Dean shut himself off immediately. “Nobody.”

“Is she your wife?” Castiel prodded, because for some reason he didn’t allow himself to analyse further, he needed to know.

“What?” Dean cringed. “Fuck, no.” He hesitated, giving Castiel a calculating look. Then he sighed. “He’s my brother.”

“Oh.” Castiel tried not to show his relief. “Do you want me to send for him?”

“No,” Dean’s eyes grew wide. “He shouldn’t be anywhere near me. Not until Alastair…” He shut up.

But not before Castiel had heard the name. And there was only one Alastair of note. “You’re hunting Alastair Black. Is that what got you shot?” Figured his past would come back to haunt him one day. He should’ve let Dean die.

Dean gave him another one of those long, calculating looks. “You know Alastair?”

“Who hasn’t heard of him?” It was the safest answer he could give, but he avoided Dean’s eyes. “Only a madman would go after Alastair.”

Dean grinned at him at that. “Been called that before.”

Castiel couldn’t help a chuckle. It broke the tension between them for the moment. “Does he know you’re here?” Had Dean covered his tracks when he fled? Would he have been conscious enough? Castiel took a second to mourn his home. He’d have to leave here soon, undoubtedly.

“No.” Dean frowned. “I’ll leave.” He pushed away the blanket and tried to get up. But Dean didn’t get far before he fell back down with a grimace. Castiel didn’t even have to push him back down forcefully.

“I didn’t save your life so you could just throw it away.” Castiel narrowed his eyes. “You’ll stay until you’re back on your feet and then you’ll go back to your brother and forget about Alastair. Deal?”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it again. “No,” he finally whispered. “Listen, Cas, I’m grateful for your help, but…”

”Castiel,” Castiel interrupted him.

“S’what I said. Cas.” Dean went on. “I feel like I owe you the truth, padre. As soon as I can hold my colt again, I am back on my horse and back on the hunt.”

“The bounty isn’t worth your life, Dean. Don’t be stupid.” Castiel stood up. He was too anxious to remain seated.

“It’s not about the bounty. It’s personal,” Dean confessed.

Of course it was. “Personal vendettas make for dumb choices.” Castiel collected the bowl and turned to leave for his kitchen. “It makes you reckless, which gets you killed.”

“He killed my mother,” Dean whispered.

Castiel turned back around. The look on Dean’s face told him he was telling the truth. He sighed. “I’m sorry for your loss. Still. She wouldn’t want you to die as well.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, guess I don’t.” Castiel gave him a flat look and left Dean to recuperate. He had a lot of thinking to do himself.

**

The next day, Dean was looking much better. Maybe Castiel would be lucky and he’d be well enough and out of his hair until Alastair found him. After some prodding, Dean talked a bit about his brother. Castiel himself didn’t reveal much. That was one thing his job as a priest had prepared him for. Getting other people to open up about their lives. 

Still. At the end of the day he’d told Dean about his plans to build a stable for traumatized horses. He’d even gotten Dean to agree to help him build it as payment for saving his life. It would never come to pass, because Alastair was going to kill him, but still. It was a nice thought.

**

By day three Dean was well enough to get out of bed and move around the cabin a little. Castiel seized the opportunity to ride into town and stock up on supplies. Usually Kevin would provide him with supplies once a week, but since he wasn’t alone right now, he was burning through them faster than anticipated. 

He didn’t linger long and was back in time for dinner, which Dean was helping him prepare. Castiel had to admit that it was nice to have company again for a change. But he couldn’t get used to it.

Much later that night, Castiel was awoken by a loud commotion outside. Out of instinct, he grabbed his revolver which he still slept with under his pillow, even if he was sleeping on the floor because Dean had his bed. He trained it at a noise coming from inside his house, but it was only Dean who had woken up as well. 

“Give me my gun,” Dean whispered. Without hesitation, Castiel complied. “I’m sorry they found me,” Dean apologized. “I don’t know how they could’ve tracked me.”

Right on cue, a large fire started crackling and blazing outside. Castiel only hoped it wasn’t his chapel. “Jimmy,” a voice shouted from outside and Castiel’s blood froze in his veins. It was Alastair. “Jimmy, I know you’re in there. Come out to play.”

Dean frowned, confused, but he took a few steps forward. “Stay,” he told Castiel. “If I just go, maybe he’ll leave you alive. You’re a priest.”

Castiel looked at him with pity. Alastair didn’t give a fuck about the cloth. Castiel knew that first hand. “I’m sorry, Dean.” He placed a hand on Dean’s bad shoulder and squeezed a little, making him cringe enough so Castiel could pass him by easily. “They’re not here for you. They’re here for me.”

Castiel quickly opened and closed his front door, hoping they wouldn’t find out Dean was here as well. “Alastair. Glad you found me with that one eye you got left.” Castiel’s plan was to aggravate him enough to have him act reckless. Because as he’d told Dean before, personal vendettas got you killed. 

And this was way personal for Alastair. After all, Castiel had been the one to take his eye.

But Alastair didn’t take the bait. “Good to see you, old friend.” Alastair smiled at him from up on his horse. “Imagine my surprise when one of my scouts comes back saying they spotted you of all people. I was out looking for quite some other scumbag, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to reconnect.”

Castiel had come out with his gun raised and he hadn’t set it down yet. It was trained on Alastair’s head. “That was very nice of you,” Castiel replied through gritted teeth. “I would like to invite you inside for a cup of tea. But my humble cabin is very small, so it’d just have to be you.” He looked at Alastair’s posse. “Sorry, boys.”

“You think I can’t take you alone, Jimmy?” Alastair was dismounting his horse and Castiel adjusted his aim.

“No, I really don’t think a half-blind cripple can,” Castiel shrugged. “But if you wish for me to take your other eye as well…”

Castiel had miscalculated. He’d been hoping to goad Alastair into a duel, but apparently he’d pushed too much. He saw Alastair nod to his cronies and had just enough time to dive behind a stack of wood before they all started shooting at him. He was retaliating just as quickly, dropping one, two, three of Alastair’s men. Wait… he hadn’t shot at that third guy. He risked a glance behind his shoulder and found Dean at his window, taking remarkably good aim.

But Alastair had spotted him as well. “Ah. Two for the price of one. Must be my lucky day.” He grinned, refocusing his aim on Castiel’s window and shooting at Dean. 

Castiel shot one more guy, missing another, when he had to reload. He really should’ve taken his shotgun as well. Fuck. Bullets were flying all around him and it was only a matter of time until one of them hit the target. The wood was less than ideal for cover.

He was looking for a way out when Dean provided him with enough of a distraction to get back into the house. Dean had shot at one of the horses, thankfully missing it, but startling it enough to throw off its rider and barrel into the line of fire before it fled. Castiel quickly dove into the miraculously opening door and came face to face with Dean, who had opened it for him.

“Thanks.” Castiel accepted Dean’s good hand to get up off the floor and then joined him at the window to continue their shootout from a better vantage point. It turned out that Dean was an excellent shot. Almost as good as Castiel himself, and even with an injured shoulder and Castiel out of practice, they managed to kill most of Alastair’s crew. The rest was starting to flee.

“Cowards,” Alastair yelled after them. “I will find you and I will kill you and your families and everyone you ever loved.”

Alastair himself was too well hidden and neither got a good shot in. Castiel looked at Dean, who had started to sweat and tremble again, the activity taking a toll on him. Castiel had to think fast. This was his one chance to end this once and for all.

“Dean,” he rasped. “Stay here. Distract him. I will go around the back and…”

”No,” Dean protested. “Alastair is mine. He’s my kill.”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s arm. “I understand. But you can barely stand anymore. Think for a second.”

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before leaning back out the window to fire another shot. “Son of a bitch,” He cursed. “Go.”

It was all the encouragement Castiel needed and he passed Dean his revolver so he’d have more ammunition and could pretend Castiel was still with him. Castiel himself grabbed his shotgun on his way out the back. He carefully crept his way around to where he’d seen Alastair last. 

It might have been a good thing that Alastair only had the one eye left, because Castiel was able to stay disguised long enough to get off a shot, hitting Alastair in the side. Alastair stumbled, clutching at his wound, looking at Castiel with a shocked expression. It gave Castiel the real opening he’d been waiting for and he aimed for his head next. But before he could get a shot in, another bullet flew through the air, hitting Alastair straight through his remaining eye. Alastair’s mouth fell open and he fell with it, dropping straight back and staying down.

Castiel crept closer, keeping his gun ready the whole time, but Alastair didn’t move at all. As soon as he was in reach, Castiel kicked Alastair’s gun out of his hand and then stared at his lifeless face, now missing both eyes. It was an eerie view. He prodded him with the shotgun, but Dean’s shot had gone straight through. Alastair was dead. His two remaining henchmen had turned and left as soon as their boss fell. 

Soon enough, Dean joined him. He was weak in the knees, but stable enough. “Huh.” Dean looked down at his nemesis dead on the ground, not elaborating further.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“I thought it’d feel…”

“Different?” Castiel supplied. “Better?”

Dean gave him a grim nod.

“It doesn’t. It won’t. Taking a life can never repair the hollow left by a life lost. Quite the contrary.” Castiel explained. But maybe actually saving a life and watching that life go on could make a difference. Castiel wondered if Dean would allow him to find out.

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s good shoulder and steered him back to the house. “Should we not, like, clean up?” Dean asked. Thankfully the chapel hadn’t been set on fire and the flames consuming his hay dwindled down on their own. But there were a lot of bodies lying around.

“What for? Alastair was a wanted man. He came here to kill me, but half his crew hesitated to kill a priest, so they shot each other,” Castiel tried out his story. He had to leave out Dean and his own shooting skills. “There’s still a bounty to collect. If they let me have it, I’ll share it with you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or we explain that you came to my rescue. You being here, injured as you are, should not be suspicious.” Castiel left him an opening to claim the credit, if he wanted it. But Dean shook his head dismissively.

They reached the house and Dean fell onto a chair. “You’re Jimmy Novak, aren’t you?” Castiel didn’t reply, but Dean just nodded. “Don’t worry. It’s not my secret to tell. Besides, who’d ever believe that the infamous Novak kid hung up his colt and took up the cloth?”

Castiel replied with a close-lipped smile, then helped Dean back to his bed. This was it then. His cover was blown. It was nice as long as it lasted. He was going to miss this place. But there was no way he could stay with a stranger knowing his secret. He trusted Meg. But he couldn’t allow himself to trust Dean. There was still a bounty on his head as well. “Get some sleep, Dean. We’ll get our stories straight tomorrow.”

Dean nodded, but when Castiel turned to leave, Dean reached out for him. “Don’t forget, when I’m well enough, I’m gonna help you built that stable. This is a nice place. You have a lot of room for what you’re planning to do.”

Castiel looked at him. Did he know? Did he know that Castiel fully planned to pack his bags and be off before dawn? Yeah, he concluded. Yeah, he did. Because Dean would probably do the same in his shoes. He was giving him a reason to stay though. And Castiel was grateful, if still wary. “Get some rest, Dean.”

“See you in the morning, Cas.” Dean replied meaningfully before closing his eyes.

Castiel watched him for a little longer, thinking about his life here and the connections he’d made. Meg, Kevin, his congregation. Besides, Alastair was dead. Maybe he could risk it. Jimmy Novak made a lot of enemies in his day, but Alastair had by far been the worst and the most determined. He thought about Dean helping him build his stable, about working with horses. Here, in this new home he made. 

Maybe it was worth the risk to hold on a little longer and trust Dean. Castiel had been quite the risk taker back when he was Jimmy. It might be time to reclaim some of his old habits.

 

**

_Epilogue_

Almost a year later, Castiel was leaning against the fence, surveying his fully finished paddock a bit wistfully. They’d built the stable and the paddock. All that was left to do was continue to work with the actual horses. He should be happy to be done, but somehow he wasn’t.

Meg had joined him for the afternoon. “He really is a sight for sore eyes,” she remarked.

“Mhmm,” Castiel hummed, watching Dean lead their newest recruit, a black stallion, by a long rope. He had a feeling the horse was just humouring him though and it was only complying because it liked Dean. And who could fault him? “Impala sure is a beauty.”

Meg snorted and stabbed him with her elbow. “Like I was talking about the _horse_.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. But his lips were twitching, and soon he was laughing along with Meg. 

“I don’t understand why he keeps coming around now that he’s kept his promise and built my fence,” Castiel mused.

This time, Meg kicked his chin. “Lying is a sin, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you know, father?”

“What?” Castiel turned to her and held up his hands. “I really am wondering.” He heaved a sigh. “He does like the horses and they respond to him better than they do me.”

“If you’re gonna keep bullshitting me, Clarence, I am out of here. Eye candy or not.” Meg huffed and pushed herself up on the fence before sticking two fingers between her lips and whistling loudly.

Dean and Impala both startled, but the horse didn’t buck or try to run off. Castiel was impressed. Apparently Dean was pleased as well, because he went up to the horse, fed him a sugar cube and whispered something close to Impala’s ear before he just rested his head next to the horse’s. 

Even Meg showed respect and didn’t whistle again. When Dean decided it was time, he took off the rope, let the horse roam free and went to join them by the fence. “What?” He asked, slightly annoyed.

“Clarence here was wondering if you might like to come work with him full time.” Meg announced.

“What?” Both Dean and Castiel wondered in unison, but Castiel immediately regretted it when he saw Dean’s face fall at his reaction. Damn Meg and her meddling.

“Oh,” Dean nodded and badly faked a short laugh. “Good one.” He pulled off his hat, passed a hand through his hair and then pulled his hat back on lower, obscuring his face. “You know, I keep meaning to ask. Why do you call him Clarence?”

Meg shrugged. “Figured if he gets to make up a stupid name for himself, then so can I.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. It was an old argument, but it still got him riled up. “I chose the name of an angel when I took on the cloth.”

“Michael would have done,” Meg teased him.

“Castiel is a warrior of God.” Castiel defended himself. The name had spoken to him. And he was trying his best to do his namesake proud. In fact, by now he’d come to think of himself as Castiel. Jimmy was gone, the last vestiges of him having died about a year ago, with Alastair. 

“I like it,” Dean mused. “Although I like Cas better.” He hesitated a little before he added, “Is it ok if I call you that?”

Castiel almost laughed, because _now_ Dean was asking? After a whole year? But instead he just smiled and nodded. “Of course, Dean. I like it. It’s still my name.”

Dean was returning the smile, looking up at him from under the brim of his hat, and Castiel just melted.

**

Later that night, they were both sitting outside on Castiel’s porch, sharing a whiskey. Meg had long returned back to the town, but her callous offer still swirled around in Castiel’s mind. It seemed like Dean had wanted to stay. Castiel sure would like him to. But he never dared to ask. Dean was a free spirit, he needed to roam. Maybe that’s why he related to the wild horses so much. He, too, would break if you caged him.

But Castiel wouldn’t be offering to cage him. He’d offer a partnership, even more than the one they already shared. They’d both gotten half of the reward out on Alastair’s head, but Dean had insisted Castiel keep all of it to build the stable and buy the horses. Since Dean had still done most of the work only to be paid by room and board, there was still a good chunk left.

And lately, they’d started a whole other kind of partnership as well.

“Dean?” Castiel asked almost inaudibly, but Dean’s head swivelled towards him instantly. “Would you… I mean, it’s ok if you don’t want to. No obligations. But would you, maybe…”

Dean smirked at him fondly. “Just say it.” He leaned closer, taking off his hat and going for his buttons next. And Castiel realized where Dean thought this was going. It would be easy enough to change track.

“Stay,” Castiel said, holding out a hand to stop Dean in his ministrations. Dean frowned at him, apparently confused. Castiel took a deep breath. “Please stay. Meg was right, even if her approach was misguided. I’d like you to stay here. Work with the horses. You’re so good with them.”

“You’d like me to stay for the horses?” Dean cocked his head, frown still in place.

“Yes,” Castiel was quick to assure him before he realized his mistake and backtracked. “No, wait. This is not where I was going with this.” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Give him a target to shoot and he was calm and confident, but this was really fucking hard. “Stay here. With me. Please?”

Dean’s expression brightened and it was all the answer Castiel needed to hear. Even if Dean wouldn’t say yes right now, he would stay eventually. Castiel didn’t need to press for an answer right now. Before Dean could even say a word, he’d gotten out of his chair and knelt down next to Dean’s, meeting his lips in a soft kiss.

Dean responded by deepening the kiss and burying his hand in Castiel’s hair. He got out of his chair as well and then they were kneeling next to each other, kissing and roaming over each other’s chest and back before they decided it was time to take it inside.

Before they made it to Castiel’s bed, however, Dean leaned in to nibble on Castiel’s earlobe before softly whispering, “Yes.”


End file.
